


Hey, Neal

by Fedora Of Adorableness (TheTimelessChild0)



Category: White Collar
Genre: 5+1 Things, Awkwardness, Episode: s01e02 Threads, Episode: s01e03 Book of Hours, Episode: s01e07 Free Fall, Episode: s01e09 Bad Judgment, Episode: s01e12 Bottlenecked, Episode: s02e01 Withdrawal, Friendship, Humor, Neal is bad at taking care of himself, Neal sucks at hiding things, Urination, peter is a mother hen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-23
Updated: 2020-12-30
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:29:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 4,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28267653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheTimelessChild0/pseuds/Fedora%20Of%20Adorableness
Summary: There was one question Peter kept asking him;'Do you need to go to the bathroom?'
Kudos: 13
Collections: WC²





	1. Conjecture

Peter had a tendency to infuriate Neal. It wasn’t the endless mortgage fraud cases, the deviled ham sandwiches, or even the baseball commentary- which beat Mozzie’s conspiracy theories right out of the ballpark, so to speak. No, it was the repetitious, automatic, mildly humiliating habit he had, of asking him whether he needed to use the bathroom.

Sometimes he said yes, sometimes the answer was no. And sometimes still....well.

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

Neal exited the restroom, walking briskly by Burke to enter the elevator.

“You know you don’t have to ask me that every time,” he huffed indignantly.

“I wouldn’t  _ have _ to ask, if you listened to your body more often,” Peter countered pointedly.

“I do,” he stated. 

“Allegedly,”

Caffrey rolled his eyes.

“Prove it,” he dared his handler.

Burke rose to the challenge happily. “Gladly. Exhibit A,” he began.

Neal did not approve of this development and stopped it with a gesture, nodding in acknowledgement.


	2. Exhibit A: MetLife

He would never confess to entertaining the idea of Fashion Week being a national holiday; like Easter but longer and considerably more stylish. He couldn’t even put on his most  _ fashionable _ suit today; not because the White Collar dress code was all that strict, the exact opposite in fact. But Peter preferred that his consultant wore practical garb that maximized his potential to be “useful”. Meaning that he could be stuffed in the stuffy van at a moment’s notice, and Burke didn’t have to ask him nicely to disassemble his golden silk tie ensemble, that cost more than his house in Brooklyn.

So he had put on his usual highly expensive Devore. One thing he hadn’t realised before was the loose fit of his other suits. He recalled wearing larger belts to match the stretchy waistband they included. Only now was he appreciating the intuitive design. Mainly because it was literally the worst time in the universe, to be wearing a belt that limited the space near your abdomen. It was impossible to ignore the fact that he needed to pee. It wasn’t something that occurred often, nor was it necessarily a problem. If he was early enough, there were a great many shops in the building that had public restrooms embedded in them- as did the business complex itself.

Alas, at the present time he had no time to spare. Ok, insufficient time to spare for a break of the relevant  _ nature _ .

Thankfully, the first part of their trek to the office required actually moving your legs, so he was free to distract himself with that for at least a couple of minutes...and then they had to wait for a cab.

“I can’t believe this...it is  _ impossible  _ to find a cab in this city,” Burke wallowed.

“This is Fashion Week, Peter, enjoy it,” Neal advised. Of course, he was not exactly enjoying it all that much at this  _ specific  _ time.

_ Easy for you to say _ , the Suit remarked, inside his head only. He knew this was the con man’s bread and butter. However, by way of a cursory glance at his friend, the agent noticed signs of...something else. Discontention, almost. Huh.

“What’s new with you? You seem kind of...restless,” he noted, concerned mostly with the way the CI was moving around on the sidewalk, but not checking for approaching automobiles.

“Yeah I am...just, eager to get started on a new day that’s all,” Caffrey claimed.

Peter nodded, not quite believing him. Neal was glad that he had the issue at hand, under some semblance of control. He clenched his thighs and folded his arms, creating a stature that would secure some stability in his frame. It was a blessing, that he only  _ kind of  _ had to go. It wasn’t all that bad. Not enough to forget entirely, but at the very least, somewhat ignore for the time being.

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

They made it to the office. Now all Neal had to do was make it to the bathroom. Easier said than done. Apparently, they were going after the Ghost. And a witness to a murder perpetrated by the notorious counterfeiter, was in the conference room. He knew this was a conversation requiring immense focus, not intense wriggling. So he took his shot.

“Hey, do you mind starting without me? I’m just gonna run to the bathroom really quick,” he requested.

“We’ll be fine,” Burke dismissed him, with a smile. The allowance was not only out of truthfulness, but out of surprise at the revelation. It illuminated the cause of his minor distress earlier.


	3. Exhibit B: Pee Boy

One thing that was made clear after this case was that Caffrey needed to work on communication. He entered Ignazio’s home, totally unaware of what Moz had said to “allow” them entrance. He also didn’t get very far before he was made aware of something else. Namely, that he needed to continue his observation in order to locate the  _ restroom _ . This effort, compared to the former, paid off. He simply encouraged his paranoid pal to proceed with his poking and prodding around the place; as he slipped away.

Meanwhile, Mozzie began to wonder where his friend had gone. Presuming he was searching as well, he called out to him.

“Find anything useful?” he inquired.

“You could say that,” Neal remarked from his precarious position.

“Are you peeing?” Haversham heard a sound that would suggest that.

“ _ Yes, I am.  _ That is why the bathroom door is closed, and it will remain closed as long as you keep talking to me,” the younger con man begged for silence.

Moz paced back and forth in the hallway, waiting for Neal to finish.

“I’d appreciate it if you listen when I try to teach you manners, Moz,” Caffrey sighed, returning to the living room. 

“What the hell were you thinking?!”

“I think a lot of things, often. Could you be more specific, please?” he deadpanned.

“Did no one teach you to  _ go _ before you leave?!” Mozzie lectured.

“Yes,  _ you _ , on multiple occasions,” Neal noted.

“And clearly you weren’t listening,” his little bald friend sighed.

“I was...nothing’s foolproof. What’s the big deal?”

Moz looked like he was about to start hyperventilating.

  
“Never leave a trace. Least of all now...there! You better hope that cop is half-blind. I just told him I was swabbing the bowl for a urine sample, and  _ you _ just left evidence to the contrary!” he explained.

“Relax, Moz. It’s not like he’s gonna wanna double-check. Not likely in the slightest,” Neal reasoned.

“And you know that how?!”

“Because no man with any sense of hygiene willingly sticks his head in a toilet,” Caffrey pointed out.

“And yet you wonder how you got caught...” Mozzie mentioned.

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

Peter picked up the phone, receiving a call from a police officer, by the name of Dixon.

He wanted to know whether Mozzie was an agent of the FBI, or a genuine intruder. Bit of both, if you wanted to quibble over dictionary definitions.

“I was just wondering why he came up with such a clever cover-up, and then abandoned it immediately,” the detective clarified.

That brought Burke pause. That did not sound like the sceptic at all.

“How exactly did he abandon it?” he pried.

“Well, he claimed to be a tech guy scrubbing toilets, but when I went in after him to verify, there was still pee droplets around the rim. The guy was wearing glasses for christ’s sake, he couldn’t have missed that, right?”

No.  _ He  _ would not. Neal, on the other hand...

  
“Right,” Peter agreed, a small smirk sneaking onto the corner of his mouth.

“So now you’re wondering why he didn’t bother cleaning up the bowl before he left,” he continued.

“No, I’m wondering what he was drinking that meant he couldn’t wait until he was  _ not  _ in an active crime scene,” the cop corrected.

  
“Well, you know, when you gotta go, you gotta go,” Burke remarked.

“Paranoid much?” Dixon implied.

“He  _ can  _ be,” the statement not referring to any CI in particular. “Just fell short this time,”

“Or rather more accurately; caught short,”

_ “ _ Yeah,  _ that too _ ,”

The agent ended the call, to regain his composure after laughing. Only Caffrey. No one else.


	4. Exhibit C: Tulane

“What’s wrong with you? You’re like a kid with a sugar high” Peter reprimanded his rapid ascension on the stairs to Tulane’s apartment.

Neal redirected to the man’s infamy. In reality though, he did indeed resemble a child. Just not hopped up on sugar; hopping up and down with one knee bent was closer to his  _ wildest _ dreams.

He swayed forward and backwards, as Burke talked to the thief. Never more than a few inches off his centre, lest he attract suspicion. Yeah, about that...

“Does he need the toilet or something?” Tulane posited, observing the manner of which Caffrey was presently moving around; stepping in place, bending a single knee at a time, bouncing on his toes as discreetly as physically possible. Subtlety was not on his side this time.

Once his cheeks were aptly heated, Neal had no idea how to react to this confrontation. He’d been caught in any number of compromising positions, all of which only risking his freedom, not his reputation; one notable exception being the princess, of course...though he was seriously developing a preference towards that moment compared to this.

He merely looked away, up, down and then at Burke, tilting his head sheepishly.

Peter looked to Tulane for guidance. Which they promptly received in the form of directions.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Neal very much hoped Tulane was not responsible for the missing pink diamond- he did not think he could look this man in the eye again after this.

“Is that a British thing?” he asked his handler as they made their way out.

“Apparently it’s a  _ Commonwealth  _ thing,” Peter was quick to reply, casually.

He was embarrassed enough to consider wearing short shorts. Anklet was like jewelry at this point.


	5. Exhibit D: Don’t Judge Me

He still hated judges’ chambers, that was for sure and certain. It was intimidating, dull, commanding, restricted and stern. Rooms shouldn’t be stern. People could be, absolutely. Not furniture...or walls. He had located the tape, and deleted the contents like Moz had taught him. It occurred to him that the verb “wipe” was inaccurate in this instance. He wasn’t hovering a mouse over large pieces of text and hitting delete. There was no motion comparable to  _ wiping _ involved. In the utter boredom of the room, his mind fell to the last time he had wiped his rear end. The situation was self-explanatory, time-stamp more vague. One thing quickly became clear though; it was a long time ago. 

Which was not irrelevant in the slightest. 2 out of 3 bowel movements were accompanied by a leak. The immediately preceding one was no exception, either...

Which put him in quite a pickle. Yes, he could try to find the restroom outside, but he wanted to minimize witnesses. Not to mention the danger of staying, so close in time to Clark’s return. He needed a head start. 

He looked around the room. There was a ficus. 

“It’ll do in a pinch” he sighed, pinching himself lightly.

There was no hesitation in his plight to pee in the flowerpot. Fortunately he had experience urinating in highly unusual places. Also highly illegal places.

A fine addition to his collection, he mused; tilting his head back and focusing.

When he finished, he simply zipped back up, and applied hand sanitizer as recommended by the CDC  _ and _ basic hygiene.

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

He rejoined Mozzie outside, who had set up in the bushes with a large translucent radar dish. As it turns out, it was actually an amplifier. They got the date and time of her account withdrawal, and Neal stood up to go catch the first train to the White Collar office building. His partner in crime was still eavesdropping. 

“Moz,” he called out. Bugsy was expecting company of a con man, and it wouldn’t be the taller of the two.

“Shh! She’s talking about her plant,”

“That’s not relevant,” Caffrey shut it down blankly.

“It ‘reeks of ammonia...or something’,” Haversham recited, looking at Neal strangely.

“Doesn’t that exist naturally in the ventilation?” he shrugged casually.

“Yeah, in the last century- before either of us were even born,” Mozzie dismissed the theory. Then he realised it was a redirect. “Did you pee in her plant?”

“No. Pretty sure I got some  _ on  _ the plant,” Neal stated simply, walking away.

* * *

Peter called Neal into his office. His badge was on the table.

“I hope I never have to use this again; but I have to know 100%. Did my wife ask you to break into Judge Clark’s office and steal the tape?”

“Yes,” he answered honestly. Burke smiled...again.

“Did you go inside her chambers?” Peter checked. It wouldn’t have been part of El’s instruction, but he’d sort been responsible for adding the second mission when he called him.

“I didn’t jump out of the window,” was the phrasing chosen.

“Very reassuring. I’m assuming you weren’t there for very long?” he hoped.

“Well, I’m not gonna be arrested for loitering, that’s for sure,” Neal noted.

  
“Just answer it straight, Caffrey,” the agent begged.

  
“No,” he surrendered.

“See any plants in there, by any chance?” Burke suddenly brought up.

“Yeah, a ficus. Why?” 

“She bought 2 for her office. One a while ago, then another right after you were in her office,”

“And?” Neal inquired, despite knowing the connection perfectly well.

“Her office isn’t big enough for 2 ficuses,” Peter stated.

“Well, I mean, if you moved some stuff, stacked boxes of case files...” the CI suggested.

Burke waved his hand, interrupting. “That’s not up for debate!” he objected. 

“So...”

“There must’ve been something wrong with the old one, so she had it replaced,” Peter continued. “Did you see a flaw with the ficus when you were in there,”

“Now that you mention it, it did look a bit dry...like it hadn’t been properly watered,” Caffrey commented.

“That’d do it...thanks,” The Suit dismissed him, temporarily. “Hey, Neal?” The man turned around.

“Did you pee in the ficus?” He asked. Neal looked like he wanted to be anywhere but in the doorway. “It was  _ seriously _ dehydrated,” Neal noted.

“Yeah, well so are you, I wonder why that might be; go finish your Evian” his handler instructed.

“It’s pronounced Fiji,” the correction rung through the stairwell

“Potato, po-ta-ta,” Peter grumbled, resuming his paperwork.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...yes, I changed the tech mozzie uses to something a little more interesting than a run o’ the mill microphone. What’s it to ya?


	6. Exhibit E: Fine Wine

Neal took his swell time walking down the stairs, taking in the exceptionally crafted plywood floor. And, of course, conducting some careful recon of the establishment. While it was true that he only needed to be shown the vault, there was  _ another  _ location whose geography he might feasibly be privy to; the privy aka the restroom. Sure, it wasn’t like he  _ needed  _ it...yet.

There was a hallway immediately to the left of the vault. Looking to the left, quickly to not catch her eye; there was a door probably containing the  _ item, _ in question.

* * *

  
Peter nodded in feigned interest to his host and guide. The line about wood in wine, which honestly made no sense to him, was all he had in his arsenal. That and politeness. Thankfully they soon returned to the festivities.

Neal, on the other hand, was on the clock. He had to choose a collection of wax vast enough not to be easily noticed as reduced. The more the merrier after all...he had always loved seeing his hair bunched up on the floor of a barber as a kid. Sadly there were no barbers anymore.

But this was not the cause of his haste; that would be the wine. He thought it had tasted suspiciously watery. Not the crime Peter was concerned with, but his bladder registered its dismay all the same, making him tap his tippy-toes on the solid stone floor like a ballerina. Whoever put the waxy samples on the highest of shelves, should be arrested for crimes against interior design.

So, thusly he was forced into a rat race, of collecting samples quickly enough to leave earlier than strictly called for; in order to sneak into the hallway before any more tours occurred, that might impede his utmost practical journey.

He let the door click shut behind him as he heard footsteps from upstairs. It wasn’t just any black shoes; it was Peter. Naturally, every “illegal” act by Caffrey was immediately followed by Agent Burke investigating.

His hunch was correct regarding the facilities of the cellar- in that they existed... _ and _ were behind an accessible door from where he was glued to the wall, listening as the footsteps of both Keller and his accomplice got closer. Neal was not in a position to care or count feet, however. He had more pressing matters to deal with. His bladder among them.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Peter thought back to the Iraq gold case surrounding Hot Wings Guy..as he stared at Keller pretending not to obsess over where Caffrey was. Yes, he was wearing an anklet, but this was a moment where it didn’t exactly matter what building he was in...he already knew that, being in it himself. And it wasn’t a good moment to pull out his phone either.

As the man they were chasing threatened to have the vault checked...a door opened behind them, revealing his CI in all his suited glory. Emphasis on the glory. He had a satisfied grin plastered on with double-sided tape.

“Hey, guys. Enjoying the party? Make sure you try the wine...goes down a treat,” he noted with a wink.

“Clearly,” Peter hummed amusedly. Keller saw his cue to depart.

“Gah...I spend five minutes with this guy I already want to punch him in the face,” the agent fumed.

“Imagine how I feel,” Caffrey agreed.

“Relieved?” Peter couldn’t help himself from suggesting.

“Yes,” he answered curtly, moving swiftly toward the staircase, a familiar hand patting his back. “Let’s go,”

“I’m good, I went before...unlike you,” his handler pointed out.

“Shut up,” Neal grumbled. He should’ve given himself more time. At some point.


	7. Conclusion

“In my defence, I would’ve been late to our meet-up,” Neal argued against the validity of the first example. 

Peter frowned, surprised at the diligence shown by the other man. He had a rebuttal however; “Not by much. You were early. It would’ve hardly made a difference to me,” he claimed.

“How do you know I was early?” 

“I checked your anklet after the fact. I was curious, sue me,” the Suit shrugged.

“I don’t know if I’m legally allowed to...or if I trust Mozzie that much,” Burke nodded in understanding. He knew the criminal honour code only stretched so far- as did the kooky conspiracy theorist’s loyalty to Neal and _his_ ever increasing loyalty to law enforcement.

“Either way, you would’ve been just as curious as to why I was late...especially by so little time,” Neal noted.

“Perhaps...but would you have told me the truth?” Peter challenged. 

“No, I probably wouldn’t have said anything at all,” he freely admitted.

“And I wouldn’t have pushed the issue. That small a delay, the reason would’ve been obvious, Caffrey. No big deal,” the agent pressed kindly.

“To you...” Neal pointed out. 

‘“ I _do_ know that. I also know you’re smart. About most things. Not everything. You’re a polymath, you’re not omnipotent,”

“Religious scholars have spent centuries arguing whether such a concept even exists,” Caffrey commented. “But their deity is a foregone conclusion,”

“Of course,” Burke quipped. 

“Your anklet has led to me to a separate conclusion; you have a remarkable bladder capacity,”

“We’re back on that?” Neal groused. 

“Aren’t you curious what case I’m referring to?” he smirked.

“The wine cellar?” The CI intoned, perceptively.

Peter nodded.

“So, how exactly did my anklet reveal that to you?” 

“It can tell me how long you are in a room,” his handler mentioned.

“Should I be worried about you doing that more often?” Caffrey checked, suspiciously.

“Well, that’s up to you,” Burke replied.

“Is that a threat?”

“Nope! Just telling you it like it is. I don’t want you catching stupid from me,” he smiled.

“You’re not,” Neal immediately objected.

“I _know,_ thank you very much,” Peter scoffed sternly. Neal put a hand in his neck. 

“Not what I thought would embarrass me about this conversation,” he remarked awkwardly.

“I’m glad you allow yourself that one weakness,” 

“Please, emotion is strength. Constantly needing to pee is just annoying,” the con man complained.

“It doesn’t have to be”

“I get it. Overthinking is what you pay me to do,”

“Actually, we don’t pay you to do anything. Your job is just to keep you from having to go in a steel toilet out in the open,” Peter reminded him.

“Okay that’s it I’m _sold_ , let it go,” Neal drew a line.

“You first,” Burke shot back.

“Don’t have to, thanks to you,” he countered gratefully.

* * *

  
He had switched sides, because his old one contained guns. If he had only gotten a pamphlet or something he would’ve been made much more aware of the fact that, to keep guns away, you have to add some to the mix. 

“You ok?” his handler checked, concerned whether any response of value would arrive from his consultant. The wound of Kate's death had formed a shell around Caffrey, not likely to crack unless unduly prodded.

Neal sighed, frustratedly. “I need to go to the bathroom,” he informed him, looking at him plainly.

Peter huffed, not expecting such a statement. “Alright, better than shaken up by the gunfire…don’t worry about it, we’re going to the bank- and they’re almost done robbing it, so there won’t be a line,” he encouraged. 

“Love the optimism,”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *  
  


Caffrey had _no_ qualms whatsoever whining about everything and anything in front of their suspect. His impatience was running real thin, and his imagination was on overdrive to compensate for the discomfort. Somehow, he had never needed to go while committing a heist himself. Maybe it was something to do with the bank. 

Peter pondered whether any of what his friend was saying was based on truth. It seemed very serious, and attacked all fronts of their relationship. Then he spotted the con man squeezing himself, in a split second of being invisible to Simmons; and remembered why there might be a certain level of irritability present.

While he cuffed her in front of the deposit boxes, Neal leaned on a different row, both hands in his pockets, holding on.

He could hear the tips of his feet stepping a few extra times as he smoothly followed behind the private perp walk in progress. 

They were only through one of several secure gates between the vault and the public areas of the bank, when Caffrey started humming. He turned his head and found the slender digits hovering an inch above his shoulders. 

“Da da da da _conga..._ ” he sang as he swayed from side to side. 

“Why don’t you stop messing around and shimmy over to the bathroom, buddy? It’s around here somewhere,” Burke reminded him. 

Onward he hopped, gyrating to the same tune, instead saying “I really gotta _pee_...” tensely.

* * *

  
Jones put the woman into the vehicle, noticing Caffrey’s absence. 

“Where’s kid Capone?”

“Caught on tax evasion,” Peter replied simply. Clinton paused, closing the door more slowly in his befuddlement.

“Apparently he’s better at preparing for committing heists than helping to stop them. Just had to pop by the restroom,” the Suit smiled calmly.

In a moment of fleeting curiosity, he pulled up Neal’s tracking data. It showed him leaving the commode that very moment. A swipe and a tap showed the duration of his brief visit. 

“1 minute, 20 seconds,” he recited humorously.

“And those last 20 were spent washing my hands,” an equally bemused voice added as he approached. “And my face of course. Maintaining moisture is important,” Neal clapped his cheeks chipperly.

  
Peter had a hunch it was rather more important maintaining his facade. And the moisture was most likely self-applied. But again, not a good time to test his truthfulness. It might very well implode in everyone’s face...nor was he very confident in his ability to deal with whatever was inside the cocoon of confidence. If _he_ could cowboy up, so should he. Treating people with respect and giving them space- was his specialty. Unless someone had to pee. That was taking it way too far!


End file.
